Barnsley is stuck in a time bubble. I used to think it was a 10 year time bubble but today it was proven to me that the bubble reaches much further back into the midsts of time.
Today it was the 1970’s and the midst of the winter of discontent. How did I deduce this? Well for not the first time that I’ve been here, a good portion of the town centre was stricken with a power cut. I have lived here since 2006. In that time I have been in ten power cuts that I know of. I suspect there have been more judging by alarm clocks mysteriously not going off in the morning, waking up or coming home to flashing digital clocks and the occasional mysterious call from my house alarm which tells me that the power has been lost.
For an hour today the power was off. Theories went from the reasonable idea that the mayor had not put enough 50p’s into the meter to the completely ridiculous suggestion that contractors working on the new Barnsley College building had some how severed a cable. At first it was like “Oh, the power has gone off!”. But then the enquiry desk was besieged by people complaining that we had turned the power off deliberately or that we had displeased the Gods of Electricity somehow (possibly through lack of sacrificial offering). As the hour drew on and the crowds with the flaming torches and pitch forks became restless, our prayers were answered when, possibly because someone at the power station had wound up the clockwork mouse, the power came back on.
Then, at that point, almost in celebration of the return of the mystical energy, a brass band started up outside (yes, srsly dudes) and festivities began, the crowds dissipated and the mysterious omnipotent and all powerful Gods of South Yorkshire Energy were appeased.
It was, however, during this lull in 21st century emulation, that, as what happens during such times of civic failure, I was struck with a St Paulian revelation. I really am losing patience with impatient, self centred, self important people who are too busy/inept/incapable/specific to use the small measure of grey matter they actually store in their skull boxes and actually think/wipe their own arse for themselves. Really, I cannot do this for the rest of my life. What’s worse is it appears that these very people usually end up in very well paid jobs. Why? Am I doing life wrong? Should I become socially inept as well as deskilled in computer technology to further my career aspirations?
It makes me think. Is the Queen a gormless ineducated moron that, aside from being able to afford the entourage of support workers, does not know ones arse from ones royal elbow? Is Bill Gates a complete and utter chump who doesn’t know the difference between turning on a monitor and turning on a base unit of a PC? Whatever the answer, I’m sure if I become as socially inept as they then a wil be a fukin amzainly ritch baztad.